The Softening of Severus Snape
by TheQuiet
Summary: After learning that Harry Potter must die, Severus Snape is conflicted about his feelings for the chosen one. Hermione tries to convince Harry to give Snape a hug because she believes it might just save his life. AU. Gen. Fluff.
1. Snape's Obsession

**Fiction Rated: T (Not suitable for children: profanity, mature themes)**

Note: I do not own the characters, fictional world, or premise of this fanfic. Written for my amusement only.

**Chapter One** - _Snape's Obsession_

Ever since Albus Dumbledore had imparted to Severus Snape what would be Harry Potter's deadly fate, tormenting the teenager had not been nearly as pleasurable for him. In fact, ever since that day, every time the bespeckled young man walked into this classroom, he could not extinguish an odd feeling of guilt that impinged upon his gut, a sentiment that proved itself to be inexorable as time went on, even as he let weeks go by without chastening the troublemaker with his usual rancour. The boy was as brazen and uncouth as ever, wandering about at night, making smart remarks to Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley about his potion master's sour disposition and uncomely appearance, and overall making it sufficiently obvious that he thought far too highly of himself. 

Potter had a hero complex; he was quite aware that he was the chosen one. But what he did not know yet was that the price it carried was decidedly death, not an uncertain one, but an ineluctable one. It was that fact that had been making Snape's stomach turn with unusual disquiet throughout that crepuscular autumn of Harry Potter's sixth year. Harry Potter, son of Lily Evans, was going to die. Worse, Albus Dumbledore, the boy's only remaining living mentor, had been counting on sacrificing the boy since even before they had finally told the boy what he was. 

What was this? wondered Snape, his usually severe expression slightly faltering, as he watched the first snowflakes of November pass downward through the grey English atmosphere. Was it pity? Had he, as he had previously disallowed to Dumbledore, grown to care for the boy after all this time? 

No, "care" seemed too strong a word. Caring was not something that Severus Snape did. Severus Snape did not _care_. 

"POTTER! Twenty points from Gryffindor for your indecent behaviour!" snapped Snape mechanically for the first time in four weeks. 

Potter suddenly stopped snogging Ginny Weasley just long enough to see his potions master pass them by on the covered bridge with an equivocal look on his face. 

After he was out of hearing range, Ginny let out an uncertain laugh. 

"If I didn't know any better Harry, I'd swear Snape is obsessed with you or something." 

"WHAT?" Harry rejoined, mortified, "Snape loathes me. The man hates me. What the bloody hell made you think that?" 

"It's just," Ginny continued, embarrassed, "he's been following us around an awful lot lately. Ron tells me that he's always staring at you in class too." 

"Trying to catch me doing something to take away more points from Gryffindor, I reckon," Harry admitted. 

"That's just it," Ginny shifted distressingly, "Ron mentioned...that Snape hadn't taken any points away from you in weeks...until just now I guess. He and Hermione think something is up." 

"What are you suggesting?" 

"Harry, we think Snape might be thinking of moving on to Phase Two of his plan, so to speak." 

"What plan? What's Phase Two?" 

"Oh, come on, Harry. Snape's always had it in for you. But he's not just a foul old potions master who happened to hate your father. Harry, he's a Death Eater! It's no secret that he's working for Voldemort. Honestly, you think he could make it a little less obvious..." 

"So what's Phase Two?" 

"We think Harry...we think he's just about ready to hand you over to Voldemort." 

Harry seemed unfazed. It wouldn't be the first time he had acted under the impression that Snape planned to hand him over to "the Dark Lord", as he called him.

But he had to wonder. 

"So why isn't he taking off more house points from me than ever then? Why had he just stopped..before um, two minutes ago?" 

"Hermione thinks...Ron and I don't agree, though Harry. We think he's just moving on to far more evil ways to get to you, but...Hermione...she thinks he hasn't made up his mind yet. She thinks he might be re-thinking his loyalties." 

Harry nodded composedly. Why was it that Hermione's theory did not seem like such of a stretch either? 


	2. Melt His Heart

**Chapter Two** – _Melt His Heart_

"You have to melt his heart," Hermione stated matter-of-factly, "it's a matter of life and death." 

"Melt his heart?" Harry guffawed, "What heart? Hermione! This is Snape we're talking about here. He is heart_less_." 

"I'm sorry, Harry. I know how this sounds. Ludicrous, I know. But I can't help thinking, or maybe it's that I can't help hoping, that Snape is really 'good' you know? Under all his cruelty? It's just this feeling I've had ever since we found out he was performing a counter-curse, and not a curse, on your broomstick at your first Quidditch match." 

"If Snape is so dumbstruck over me then, why is it that I have to melt his heart?" 

"Harry, after the way you have...after the way that we have treated Snape, I don't think we can just assume he's going lay himself out in front of Lord Voldemort for you. Even Dumbledore has admitted Snape hates you. I'm not saying he'd kill you himself or anything, but ...this is Voldemort we're dealing with here. If you'll remember what he said to you down in the Chamber of Secrets, he can be 'very persuasive'" 

"You have a point Hermione, but how sure of this can we be? And what are you saying I am supposed to do? Stand up _in Defence Against The Dark Arts_ class, walk up to Snape and give him a hug?" 

"God no!" Hermione chortled at first, rolling her eyes. She then became quite sober. The young witch turned to Harry and looked the skinny boy with the unkempt hair over cautiously. 

_Who could say no to that?_ she thought, then blushed. Even at sixteen, she thought her famous friend was absolutely adorable. _Who could loathe such innocence? He was the boy who lived, after all._

"You know what Harry?" Hermione began, unsure of herself, "Maybe you should..." 

"Hug him?" retorted Harry with an uncharacteristic harshness. 

"Yeah." 

"I was afraid you were going to say that," Harry grumbled loudly; and then became very quiet. 

The chilly fall darkness was descending around them in the courtyard. Like she had all those many years ago, Hermione once again conjured a blue fire and captured it in a glass jar for warmth. 

They had been so young and unscathed back then, Snape recalled as he looked down on the scene from a darkened window. It had been late fall, his leg had been injured. The trio had cast him that delicate look, like they were terrified of him. The Granger girl had hidden from him the fire she had conjured. He had confiscated Potter's library book. 

This year there were only the two of them bracing themselves against the autumn's final bittersweet bite. 

"Ten points- " he almost said aloud.


	3. Inconvenient Calamity

**Chapter 3** – _Inconvenient Calamity_

"WHAT in the Dark Lord's name did you just do to me, Potter?" roared Snape vociferously as Harry recoiled from his professor's explosive backlash. The infuriated man frantically began brushing off his dark robes, as if trying to rebuff some sort of toxin that had been transferred to the already reeking fabric by the boy's touch.

"I gave you a hug, sir. It sort of looked like you needed one," Harry stammered innocently.

"And WHY, Mr. Potter, would you think _that_?" Snape bellowed at the cowering young wizard standing before him.

"Oh come on, Snivellus, we saw you weeping up there- trying to hide behind the projector. How is a _cry baby_ supposed to teach us about the Dark Arts?" Malfoy laughed mercilessly from across the classroom, "Well done, Potter, you are _hilarious_! I can't wait to tell this to my fath-"

"**_AVADA KEDAVRA_**!" Snape suddenly blasted Malfoy with the killing curse. Malfoy writhed in the green light as the baneful words echoed off the dungeon walls. Crabbe and Goyle rushed to his side, blubbering unheard-of obscenities as they watched the teenaged despot die.

Holy shit…holy shit…it wasn't supposed to happen this way. It was _not_ supposed to happen this way! Why had he gone and done that? Why had he listened to Hermione? Harry thought to himself mournfully as he surveyed the harrowing scene. Where were Ron and Hermione? He looked around, but couldn't find them amongst his shrieking classmates.

"DON'T call me a cry baby!" Snape advised his deceased tormentor, forcefully. The words "cry" and "baby" sounded nearly surreal as they were spat out of the murderer's mouth.

Snape finally turned to Harry and sneered evilly.

"You're next, _Potter_!"

* * *

"HARRY! Mate, you're having a bad dream!" Ron's firm grip on his flailing arms greeted Harry on the other side.

"Snape…Snape….I hugged him….and then he killed Malfoy!" Harry blurted out, rattled by the bizarre vision.

Ron stared at his neurotic friend, visibly molested by the thought.

"Blimey, Harry, I honestly think the greasy git will be killing _you_ if you actually listen to Hermione and do that…thing. She told me how she told you to try to _woo_ Snape, melt his heart and what not. Listen, Harry, that scumbag Death Eater is no friend of ours. Ginny and I reckon-"

"I know, ok? I know…I know he's going to hand me over to Voldemort. I know that Snape _hates_ me-" Harry choked unexpectedly, tears welling up in his eyes. "he hated- my father. _And_ he's a Death Eater. _And_ he probably eats babies—for his breakfast. And he _hates_ me! He just does, ok?"

Ron did not know why Harry was bawling like this, or what he should do about it. What was there to say? Why was Harry so upset?

"I mean, I don't know where he'd find babies to eat for breakfast, Harry…" Ron thoughtfully conjectured.

"_Hates _me…" Harry wailed inconsolably.

"That he does," Ron confirmed, shrugging impassively, "that he does…"


	4. On Your Mind

**Chapter 4** – _On Your Mind_

Harry looked at himself scornfully in the reflection of the Black Lake. Why did he have to look so much like his father? How would he ever get Snape to like a clone of his childhood nemesis?

"Listen, Harry. I honestly have no idea why Snape is so cruel to you, how he could be so cruel to you," Hermione wondered aloud, as she stood next to him on the frosty shore.

"Hermione, my father…"

"I know about your father, Harry," Hermione responded softly, "but your father passed away years ago. You didn't even get a chance to get to know him and still Snape insults him openly in front of you. The way Snape has let this grudge continue beyond the grave, and even worse, transfer it on to you, it transcends the realm of unreasonable…"

"I haven't exactly went out of my way to get Snape to like me before," Harry redirected the conversation, "maybe if I just started—I don't know--- listening to him. I could stop, you know, talking back to him. I mean, it won't be easy—sometimes I swear I just can't help myself."

"That's a start," Hermione nodded encouragingly, "but I had something more—intricate—in mind."

"Which is…exactly?" Harry looked to his childhood pal, desperate for advice.

"You have to give him a reason to pity you. Just give him a reason. Make yourself so pathetic in his eyes that he doesn't have a reason to hate you anymore. He's hard, Harry, but he's not heartless. He can be _reached_. I don't know how I know this; I just do. I just feel it. But I think we're running out of time to move him. You have to do something, Harry, and you have to do it quickly."

"You're not telling me something! There is something you're leaving out. What is it Hermione? Why is time running out?"

"I was talking to Hagrid the other day, Harry," Hermione hesitated before continuing, "he said he heard Snape and Dumbledore arguing down by the Forbidden Forest about something. Snape said something to the effect that he thought Dumbledore didn't appreciate his efforts…or that he was taking him for granted, maybe. Something like that, in any case. And then… he said he might not go through with 'it" anymore."

Harry gulped audibly.

"So," he looked up at the sky, which was quickly thickening with sable clouds, "Right then. Fuck."

_I'm fucked_, Harry thought miserably. _Fucked_.

"Have you studied for our Defence Against the Dark Arts exam? It's tomorrow, you know," Hermione took up her old bookworm's discourse.

"Fuck, Hermione. No. You know I can't concentrate on anything. I've only had four hours of sleep in the past week. I can't eat anymore without throwing up what I've eaten."

"He's on your mind, isn't he, Harry?" Hermione probed cautiously.

_Whom exactly did she mean by 'he'? Snape? Voldemort? Sirius? Dumbledore? Ron? _Harry mentally scrolled through all the men in his life, but he couldn't be certain…

"Voldemort you mean?" he ventured.

"Of course, who else?" Hermione responded all too honestly.

"Voldemort. Yeah, he's always there," Harry touched his scar, although the sudden spasm he felt exuded painfully from his heart, "On my mind."

"Bastard," he added, with a feigned grin, after the throbbing sensation had passed.

"Oh Harry," Hermione shook her head laughing grimly. She hated it when he felt he had to make light of everything like that.


	5. Losing You

**Chapter 5** – _Losing You_

Severus Snape could have sworn that the examination room was empty when he entered it that gloomy day in mid-December. The fact is that he didn't think to survey the room before he went about preparing the _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ exam he was to administer that day. Had he done so, the brown-haired boy dozing in the front row would not have caught him off guard. As it was, the realization that Harry Potter had arrived an hour early to his DADA exam gave Snape quite a shock. Not even the Granger girl was that keen.

But keen, Potter wasn't. Snape knew the foolish boy had not so much as cracked a book open since mid-October. He would know; he had been virtually stalking the teenage tragedy ever since the start of term, on Dumbledore's orders, naturally. Ever since the Dark Lord had returned at the Tri-Wizard tournament a year and a half ago, the Order had been walking on eggshells. It was only a matter of time before things were set into motion…

Potter had his face down on his desk; his head was turned towards the dungeon wall. One of his thin arms was stretched out on the tabletop in front of him, his other dangled limply on his right side. The boy was certainly sound asleep. Why he had chosen to nap in Snape's classroom remained however, a mystery.

Snape grasped hold of a nearby desk as he felt a sudden pang in the pit of his stomach. He had not realized that Potter still had the mark carved into the underside of his arm! Until that moment, he had almost successfully repressed the searing memory of what exactly had transpired on that dark June day.

_Hearing the bloodcurdling cry, Snape had rushed down to the playing field where he had met the minister for magic headed for the grandstand with a distraught look on his face. Not daring to look for himself, he had reached out to the man, silently imploring him to explain._

_"A boy has been killed," was all the minister said to him. Snape had had that pang in this stomach then, too. _

Recovering from the flashback, Snape shifted his body weight back onto his feet, casting the sleeping boy a tortured look. Approaching Potter's desk, he noted the black circles under the boy's caving eyes. _The boy was not well_, Snape suddenly realized. Of course, he had never watched to see if Potter slept at night. But how many times had he heard the perturbed child claim that he wasn't hungry?

_I'm losing you_, he thought remorsefully as a sharp pain shot up both of his wrists.

The boy's abnormally small hand felt warm as Snape patted it transiently with a tinge of tricky affection. The boy did not stir. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he looked around nervously to make sure that they were still alone in the dim classroom, admonishing himself for being so careless with his life. He knew he too needed to survive if the boy was going to have a running chance.

Turning his back on the slumbering teenager, Snape pragmatically set to distributing the examination papers on the empty desks, in the old muggle fashion. Lately, he found he needed to keep himself busy with such unnecessary nonmagical tasks to keep his mental barrier intact. _Control your emotions! Discipline your mind_!

"Professor Snape?"

Snape tried his best not to jump as if he had just heard a bomb explode when the quivering voice found him sometime later with his back turned to the blackboard, chalking out a set of examination procedures by hand.

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter," Snape responded callously, taking care not to turn around, "I trust you _slept well_."

The boy's response however, proved problematic.

"Thank you sir, for not waking me. I am sorry I fell asleep in here… it's just, I haven't been sleeping well lately and I sort of dozed off while I was studying… without realizing it," he said with genuine appreciation in his voice.

"Well…ok then, Potter," Snape rejoined hastily in an unrehearsed tone that wasn't exactly cruel, enigmatic as Potter's honest admission that had been unhampered by his usual trepidation.

"I wish it would snow in time for Christmas," Harry blurted out with childish optimism.

Snape humphed indifferently, pressing harder on the stick of chalk, adding _No Talking _to the list of exam-related prohibitions.

"I would think you might be reserving your wishes for something more important, Mr. Potter. Like passing your _Defence Against the Dark Arts_ exam you have just barely started to study for."

"But I didn't just--" Harry began in a suspicious tone, but then remembered not to become indignant.

"You're right, professor. I haven't studied nearly enough…at all, really… and I know I am not going to do too well. But I figure that's ok if I fail. I'll just take an extra year maybe. I've been having a really tough time lately. I'm not in the greatest of shape…" Harry trailed off, suddenly embarrassed by the relaxed attitude he was putting on before the unaffected, sardonic man. Oh God, he was about to rip him to _shreads_. Harry could see Snape's entire figure tauten.

Snape put down his crumbling piece of chalk. If Potter's tone had smacked of the least bit of pretense, he would have whipped around and struck some fear into the boy about becoming serious about his magical education. As it was, Potter's unprecedented concern for his own well-being was sensible, and more timely than he ever could have imagined just then.

"Yes, Harry," Snape said softly, turning his gaze to the stone floor in front of him "we're all a bit overburdened right now."

_Harry_. He had called him Harry…for the first time, ever. To his horror, Harry began to feel tears filling his eyes. He wiped them away, frantically, before Snape could turn around and yell at him for being so weak and emotionally vulnerable.

_Dear boy, how could I ever yell at you right now_? Snape marveled tenderly in silence, after having had impulsively delved into the boy's mind to read his thoughts.

"Please, Professor Snape. I know you hate me but I really don't think you're so bad. Please, please don't hand me over to…to…you-know-who. I promise I'll never cause you any trouble ever again. I'll do anything!" Harry whimpered unabashedly, kneeling before his pitiless professor.

Snape turned around slowly. Without thinking, he looked down into boy's weepy sea green eyes and was startled anew by the everlasting reminder…

"I assure you---" Snape paused, not knowing what to call the boy, but then continued firmly, " I assure you—child--- that there is nothing you could do or say that could change my mind on that count."

Inexplicably, the boy just stared up at him in horrified silence. Had he not just assured Harry that he would continue to look out for him as he had always done?


	6. How to Save a Life

**Chapter** **Six** - _How to Save a Life_

"Leave him alone, you wicked git!" the red-head barged into the classroom and proceeded to stride boldly down the centre aisle, shoulders-level, his wand at the ready.

Snape immediately apprehended the fact that he had gone from mere greasy git to a wicked one in the space of one school term, but there was no time to speculate as to why.

"Mr. Weasley, I implore you to lower your wand!" he shouted angrily when he realized the boy was ready to cast some sort of nasty spell on him. Snape had given up thinking that the children were under the confundus charm long ago; he had long since concluded that they really were that innately daft.

"Did he try to kill you, Harry?" Ron asked his sniffling friend, helping him back up into his desk. The boy was unresponsive; he was still ogling his professor with unreserved dread.

Snape rolled his eyes at the sob scene, unimpressed.

_How thick could you get?_

The pair did not challenge him further, as other students had begun to pour into the room and take their seats. Snape stood rigidly facing the chalkboard after that, letting the offence he had taken to the children's mistrust finally sink in. Had they not been paying attention to all the things he had done, to all the things he had said, all along?

_"Good luck today, Mr. Potter. After taking down a mountain troll, a little game of Quidditch should be easy work for you. Even if it is against…Slytherin."_

How had things gotten so bad since that distant day? Before the Dark Lord had returned, he had been able to slip the boy little compliments like that, under the guise of derision, of course. Still, all he had done at been at a great risk to his own life. Giving the boy occulmency lessons in his fifth year had practically been suicide. Luckily, as the events had played out, he had been able to lie to the Dark Lord and tell him he had sabotaged the lessons.

His thoughts suddenly jolted back through the flurry of years to when it had all began. The man he hated married the woman he loved; a child had been conceived only be irremediably cursed; his Lily had been murdered in the process. And all of that, and all of the pain that presently plagued their lives had stemmed from one single moment of indiscretion when he had uttered unthinkingly…

_"….mudblood!"_

As indelible as the boy's scar was the memory of his mother's tears, cascading out of those striking green eyes that he had had a hand in putting to rest…

_I've really fucked this up_, Snape confessed to himself, swallowing painfully. Turning around with a flip of his hair, he saw that the students had taken it upon themselves to start writing their examinations. He could see that the Granger girl was considering him inquisitively. He shot her a sinister glare. When would those insufferable children learn to stay out of his business?

Then he could have sworn she almost smiled at him. What was wrong with the girl? Was she senseless? He really was a Death Eater, after all. If a harebrained sixteen year-old girl could see through him, what did that say about Lord Voldemort?

_Sucker_. Snape sneered for a moment, content with himself.

"Professor Snape, he's giving me a headache!" Draco griped, pointing an accusatory finger at a bawling Potter, "We're trying to, you know, write an exam here!"

Draco was right. He had to do something. The children who would live to see seventh year were, after all, trying to pass their N.E.W.T. levels.

"Get ahold of yourself, Potter!" Snape intoned harshly, causing many of the female students in his class, save Granger, to give him dirty looks.

This only made Harry begin to cry more tumultuously into his robes.

He had left Snape with no other option. He marched austerely over to the crying child, and placing his rough hands firmly on his shoulders, steered him in the direction of his back office.

"Stay here! " he ordered Harry in a loud, authoritarian voice after he had basically shoved him into the small room. "I'll be back," he then assured the boy with a stern softness before slamming and bolting shut the heavy wooden door on his worried little face.

"That'll teach 'em!" Malfoy whispered to Goyle with a self-satisfied smirk.

"NO TALKING!" Snape thundered phlegmatically.

In Snape's office, Harry stood terrified against the back wall, his eyes fixed in terror on the bolted door. Was Snape going to come back there and beat him? Kill him? Why shouldn't he? What was there to stop him? Snape had Dumbledore wrapped around his finger; the senile old man wouldn't say a word against him. Maybe Snape had him under the imperious curse; Harry had no way of knowing.

As he was preparing to die, Harry decided to have a look around the last place he would see on earth. For a teacher who had been at the school for years, Snape's office was sure barren. He had so few possessions it looked as if he could easily pack up and leave at any moment without much difficulty.

Wait, Snape _still_ had his library book? He had taken that from him in first year! Sure enough, there was _Quidditch through the Ages_ lying on the far corner of the Snape's enormous desk as if Harry had just been too absentminded to come retrieve the confiscated item. If he ever tried to loan another book from the library, his late fee was going to handicap him financially for _life_.

_Right_, Harry remembered morosely as he watched the door slowly unbolt itself, _so much for that thing called 'life'_.

The door closed behind him, Snape looked intently at the cowering boy, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

_That boy would be the death of him._

As Snape approached Harry, the boy drew back as if to evade an impending blow.

Snape had reached an impasse; he didn't know whether to console the boy or to rebuke him for his sheer stupidity.

As it was, he wouldn't have to decide.

_This is it_, Harry thought to himself, _it's now or never._

Before Snape had time to react to the boy's swift and unexpected act, Harry had nestled himself powerfully against his chest, his small arms tightly enveloping his middle in a warm, unexpected embrace. Harry clung to his professor's robes with a demonstrative fierceness; he would besiege him like this forever it that's what it took…

_Why the sudden change in heart? A moment earlier, the boy had still been apparently terrified of him. Was this actually happening? Was Harry giving him a hug?_

It was when the boy's shoulders started quivering that Snape realized he was still scared. Something inside Snape broke.

"Hey!" Snape exclaimed affectionately and putting his hands on the boy's shoulders to steady him, gently unfastened the death grip the child had on his robes, "Hey now! Look at me, Harry!"

The boy looked up at him with those sweet green eyes, ashen.

"Why are you so scared of me? I am here to protect you, Harry! I always have been." Snape's voice caved with emotion.

"Really?" Harry sniffed, his sobs subsiding, "So I'm not going to die?"

Snape hugged him back affirmatively and responded to his question with a renewed strength of mind, "No, Harry. I won't let you die. I promise you that."

_Over my dead body, Albus Dumbledore. _Snape gritted his teeth as he let Harry snuggle deeper into his robes. The rest of the world might suffer for it until the end of days, but Harry Potter was indeed going to be the boy who _lived_, if for no other reason than because he, Severus Snape, had decided it should be so.


	7. What Do They Know?

**Chapter Seven** - _What Do They Know?_

"I can't go back in there...and face them all," Harry avowed, although his tears had since dried, "I've made such a fool of myself...not to mention they all think you're thrashing me right now."

Snape grimaced, "No, Harry, you'll not be going back in there. You can stay here until class is over."

"But sir, won't they think you've killed me if I don't come out?"

_Always the devil's advocate._

"I wouldn't worry so much about what the others think, Harry. The safest place for you right now is here, in my care."

_In his care_. Harry's heart leaped, "What do you mean, professor?"

Snape dodged the question, "So, there are thirty minutes left in class. I just have to go back in there to make sure nobody has lynched Draco and I'll be back as soon as I've pried Miss Granger's exam papers from her hands."

He had hoped he might have afforded the boy a little laughter, but Harry seemed to be deep in thought.

"You'll be teaching sixth year Defence Against the Dark Arts again next year, right professor Snape? You know, when I take it over again?"

Snape's heart lurched. He hadn't the slightest idea why Harry would ever _want_ to have him as a professor again. He obviously wasn't thinking clearly; the boy was physically and emotionally exhausted. Besides...he wouldn't...they wouldn't...

"Would you look at this?," Snape picked up _Quidditch Through the Ages_ off his desk, "I always meant to give this back to you. Here."

He thrust the book into Harry's arms, who was once again crying, overcome by Snape's sudden and unexpected benevolence, "Thank you," he choked.

"Yes, well, naturally I'll make sure you don't pay anything in late fees. Why don't you sit down back there on the couch and read this until I get back?"

"Okay," Harry responded emotionally.

Snape fleetingly bowed to the perplexed boy as he slipped out of the office back into the examination room.

"SILENCE!" Harry heard Snape bellow over a resounding wave of heckling that greeted him on the other side.

Harry did as he was told, and curled up on the stiff sofa at the back of Snape's office, clutching his library book to his heart. How could he read at a moment like this? He had just hugged Snape! And wonder of wonders, Snape had hugged him back! Sordid, heartless Severus Snape had given him a hug! That must really mean something! Harry felt a cozy burning feeling in the pit of his stomach as he laid his head against the faded fabric of his professor's couch. And Snape had said that Harry should be in his care. In his _care_. Did that mean Snape cared about him? It must.

_And he's going to protect me from Voldemort, and not let me die...everything is going to be all right, now. Hadn't Snape said that? _

He had said so many things, Harry was sure he must have...

And with that, Harry fell into an easeful, much-needed sleep, smitten with his badass bodyguard. Never in his life had he felt so safe.


	8. Meant To Be Broken

**Chapter Eight** – _Meant To Be Broken_

When Harry awoke, he was wrapped in a heavy wool blanket in a shadowy space. Where was he? Why wasn't he in his bed in Gryffindor tower? Suddenly, the events of the last twenty-four hours crashed into his consciousness and he was blindsided by a surge of mortification. _Oh God…I've been sleeping in Snape's office…_

In any event, Snape was not there any longer. But where had this blanket come from? Had Snape—God forbid---put it there?

He had to get out of there! If anyone ever knew found out about this…he'd never live it down. Ron and Hermione were probably sick with worry after what had happened that day in class.

Where was Snape anyway?

Harry went to get up to leave when he heard voices coming from the adjacent classroom. He warily approached the heavy wooden door, which had been left ajar.

"Albus, I just don't know if I can go back to the way things were before…" he heard Snape say with a curious kind of quietness.

"I still don't understand what you mean, Severus," Dumbledore answered him delicately, "You're sort of beating around the bush here."

"Fine. Ever since that Potter boy hugged me, I just don't know how I could go back to mistreating him," Snape snapped at the old man, "If I didn't know myself any better, I'd almost be inclined to say that I care…"

"Ah," Dumbledore seemed to understand, "I see, Severus. And let me ask you something. When Harry embraced you…did you feel as if _something_ inside of you…broke?"

"Yes, yes it did. But…how…?" Snape responded, mystified by Dumbledore's almost clairvoyant understanding of his experience.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore began pensively, "Well, Severus, I can fix that for you, if you'll just--"

"Fix it? What do you mean by that, Albus? You don't mean to say?"

"I couldn't let you become too attached to the boy, Severus."

"You bastard!" Snape roared, visibly incensed, "You have tampered with my mind!"

"Severus, please…" Dumbledore reached out to touch Snape on his shoulder.

"NO! Don't "_Severus please_" me! You WILL not come near me and you WILL not stop me from caring for Lily's son!" Snape recoiled, repulsed.

"Oh no, Severus, no one can stop you from caring…" Dumbledore continued in a gentle tone that only served to nauseate Snape further.

"Well you certainly seem to have found a _crafty_ way…"

"Severus, Severus, Severus, You have always cared for Harry. You just weren't aware of it. I had seen how intensely you loved Lily. I knew the depth of emotions you were capable of. I had to subjugate that passion. Lord Voldemort would have seen through you in a second. And he will soon, Severus, if you don't let me…"

"Well, I would allow you, Albus, if I thought it would help to protect the boy. As it is, you have since intimated to me that you plan to have him killed!"

"He will go willingly…"

"HE is a BOY! HE does not know what is good for him! If he goes willingly, it is only because YOU have indoctrinated him! You talk of Harry Potter and the Dark Lord being one in the same, Albus Dumbledore. But have a good look at _yourself_! You're looking like Tom Riddle more and more everyday…"

"You don't mean that, Severus," Dumbledore exclaimed, affronted, "it is for the greater good."

"And for the greater good you would have this innocent boy crucified?" Snape thundered, "You DISGUST me! You and this cancered world can go to _hell_ for all I care!"

_Wake up. Wake up. Wake up._ Harry tried and tried to release himself from his unhinging nightmare, but none of it---not Dumbledore's disturbing indifference---not Snape's chilling ire---was going away. The wooden door felt firm and cold against his trembling hands. This was not just a bad dream, Harry suddenly realized, this was happening, and all of it irrevocably. He would never again return to Gryffindor tower and goof off with his friends; he would never again feast in the great hall and be able to look up and see Professor Dumbledore beaming down on him. All of that would never again be possible; Dumbledore didn't really love him; he wasn't proud of him; he shouldn't even be here at Hogwarts; it was all a conspiracy…

And with the best years of his life negated just like that, he wasn't so sure he wanted to live.

"Just do it now, then Severus. Do it now, please." Dumbledore entreated Snape tearfully.

"I WILL NOT! The boy is asleep in the next room…" Snape trailed off as he turned around and saw Harry standing there, clutching onto the side of the door, breaking down in harrowing silence as if all the happiness he had ever known had been wrenched from his little heart.

"No, Harry! No---Professor Dumbledore—he's under the imperious curse. He is not himself. He doesn't---"

"Just let me talk to Harry, Severus…just let me explain!" Dumbledore begged, "I am sure he will understand…"

"Confundo!" yelled Snape, effectively befuddling the grey-haired wizard, "You have no _right_!"

"Harry!" Snape turned to the despondent boy, instinctively wrapping him tightly up in his arms in a paternal gesture.

"I thought he loved me," Harry sobbed in Snape's arms as the old man went about muttering about woolen socks and sherbet lemons in the background, "How could he want me killed? I don't understand. I don't…"

"Son," Snape began, choking on the word, "we've all made some terrible mistakes…"

* * *

**Chapter Nine Preview**: _Snape's New Worst Memory_

"What on God's good earth has happened here?" Minerva McGonagall's stern voice seemed to demand a bracket be put on all the affliction she was witnessing, "Explain yourselves, all of you! Albus, why is Harry so upset? Severus, what have you done to him?"

"Would you care for a sherbet lemon, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, smiling fatuously.

McGonagall cast him an exasperated look. "Albus! Really, I think the time for sherbet lemons has well gone past!"


	9. Snape's New Worst Memory

**Chapter Nine **: _Snape's New Worst Memory_

"What on God's good earth has happened here?" Minerva McGonagall's stern voice seemed to demand a bracket be put on all the affliction she was witnessing, "Explain yourselves, all of you! Albus, why is Harry so upset? Severus, what have you done to him?"

"Would you care for a sherbet lemon, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, smiling fatuously.

McGonagall cast him an exasperated look. "Albus! Really, I think the time for sherbet lemons has well gone past!"

"If you would allow me, Minerva-- I believe that Professor Dumbledore has been put under the imperious curse," Snape decided hastily to perpetuate his initial lie.

Harry suddenly looked over at his former potions master with a glimmer of hope in his eyes, who met his gaze, carefully taking his optimistic reaction in.

"The imperious curse!" McGonagall, on the other hand, looked like she would faint, "But by whom, Severus? The man has gone right dippy!" The older witch pointed to their wizened headmaster who had begun to do an Irish step dance on top of a student's desk.

"That—"Severus replied disinterestedly, "remains to be seen. For the time being, however, I have confunded the man to ensure our safety."

"Well!" Minerva replied, ruffled, "That certainly does explain it!"

She turned to the loopy old man, "Come down from there, dear, or you'll break your neck!"

Harry looked up beseechingly at Snape, "So he's definitely under the imperious curse, Professor? None of that…you know…before?"

"Of course not, Harry," Snape assured him protectively, "Undoubtedly, you noticed that Professor Dumbledore was not himself tonight."

Would the boy accept this ad hoc fabrication? Snape prayed that he would; he could not have a suicidal Potter. Watching the boy lose it like that -- that had been just too much for him to bear.

"I feel so stupid," Harry sighed resignedly, "I'm always jumping to the wrong conclusions."

Snape tousled the boy's hair affectionately, "Pretty thick you are, Potter!"

"Severus Snape!" chided Minerva McGonagall, turning around from tending to a confunded Dumbledore, "That wasn't very nice!"

"Well, I'm not very nice. Am I Potter?" Snape spat with feigned seriousness.

"No sir. You're a big meanie," Harry replied, grinning.

"Harry Potter! You had better apologize to Professor Snape!" McGonagall scolded, distressed by the boy's recklessness, "One of these days he might just whack you upside the head if you're not careful!"

"No, Minerva. That's really not—"

"No, Professor McGonagall is right. I am sorry, sir, for all the trouble I've caused you over the years. And I'm sorry for calling you names. Honestly, you're the smartest professor I've ever had. I owe you a lot, Professor Snape," Harry smiled genuinely at his embittered former potions master.

_When I get my hands on you Potter!..._ Severus Snape thought to himself as he fought to swallow the massive lump that had risen in his throat during the boy's heartfelt apology, _I'm just going to have to give you the biggest hug you've ever had!_

"I suppose I forgive you, Potter," Snape smirked unsurprisingly. Only Harry could tell that he was gloating.

"Oh come now, Severus!" Minerva McGonagall took him to task for his apparent impassiveness, "If that wasn't just the sweetest thing a student has ever said to you…"

* * *

As grateful as Severus Snape was for his ability to tell that timely lie, he knew that no such deceptive device existed to save the old man's life. After Dumbledore's river-dancing episode, the curse from the Peverell ring had only spread further through his ailing body, rendering him bedridden by Christmas. 

Snape would never forget the looks on all their faces as Professor McGonagall told them that their beloved, indomitable headmaster had taken ill. Most of all, he would not forget the watery emerald eyes of the little one he had told first.

He had gone out on a limb and given Harry a new potions set for Christmas, knowing that the poor boy had hardly anyone left to give him Christmas presents. It had been different before, when the boy had had his reckless godfather and Professor Dumbledore to look after him in that way. It had always seemed that the orphan belonged to somebody else, somehow. He had always been a little celebrity; everyone seemed to love him almost automatically. Fans quickly become friends and in those earlier days he always seemed to be surrounded by admirers, often the same children who would call Snape cruel names. Other than the emotional blight Dumbledore had dealt him, Snape supposed that is why he could not stand the boy in those earlier days; he was more popular than James Potter. But lately, Snape began to see some of himself in Harry, regarding him more and more as a mistreated, sad, little outcast turned saviour against his will. The boy had even begun to excel at potions under the tutelage of Professor Slughorn, a fact that made Snape very proud, although just a little jealous that he had not been the one to discover his talent.

_Happy Christmas Harry_

_Please meet me down by the Forbidden Forest at 9:00 A.M._

_From Professor Snape_

That is what his note to the boy had read. It had looked and seemed so awkward. He had wanted to say more but he had not been sure how to word it without overdoing it and sounding uncharacteristically effusive.

When he had first drafted the note, his intention had simply been to meet Harry down by the forest, out of view, so that they could have a little talk in earnest and so that he could give him a Christmas hug (their close bond had still been a secret at the time), but when the news came from the hospital wing that Professor Dumbledore had been admitted, their Christmas morning meeting took on a more solemn purpose.

Harry had run towards him down the snowy hill, wearing a new sweater knitted by Ron Weasley's mother, no doubt. The boy had been so eager to see him that he had lost his footing on the way down the slope, taking a tumble that had left him sprinkled with the white powder.

"Are you all right?" Snape called out to him, even though he knew he was.

"Yes sir!" Harry responded resiliently as he picked himself up, still grinning from ear-to-ear.

As he came closer, Snape saw that he was holding a wrapped present, "Happy Christmas Professor Snape!" Harry chimed and thrust the small package into his arms before Snape could refuse. "Open it, professor! I got it for you!"

Without speaking, Snape quietly opened his first and only present he would get that year. It was a leather-covered book, which said on it in gold titling: "_Potion-Making Through the Ages_"

"Harry… thank you," he spoke softly as to not hasten his own tears, "this is a very thoughtful gift."

"I love my potion set that you got me! It's really cool. I needed it something awful, too, as Neville has basically broken nearly all my old flasks---"

"Harry, there is something I need to tell you," Snape cut him off gently, "It's Professor Dumbledore; he's not well."

"Oh no! Did he catch a cold? Or…" Harry stopped in mid-sentence as Snape suddenly put his arm around his shoulders and gave him a warm squeeze.

"Professor Dumbledore is not going to make it, Harry," Snape forced himself to say, his voice wrought with complicated emotion, "I'm so sorry."

The sobbing was immediate, severe, uninhibited, simply awful.

"He can't die! It's Dumbledore! He can't, can he?" Harry wailed as Snape continued to hold him.

"His immunities have been weakened by the imperious curse, Harry," Snape made up as he patted the boy on the back, "We have no control over how his body reacts to the healing spells. It seems that the entity that now occupies him invaded him with death in mind. There is nothing we can do except to say goodbye…"

"But it's too soon!" Harry cried, "I wanted him to see me graduate from Hogwarts. I was going to become an Auror. I was going to make him so proud…"

"Professor Dumbledore has had a good, long life, Harry. He can't tell you so right now, but I know that he really, really loves you and I know that he is already so very proud of you. Come now, he wouldn't want you to cry so…"

_God forbid you find out different_, thought Snape with quiet fierceness.

Snape was almost sobbing himself as he continued to hug Harry. It hurt him to have to coddle the poor boy with those empty words, knowing that none of his own difficult expressions of affect could ever in any way compare to the colourful and merry overtures with which the whimsical old wizard had revered him.


	10. A Prayer From Your Secret Gods

**Chapter Ten**: _A Prayer From Your Secret Gods_

It was surely the end of the world. Harry had never felt so terrible before.

He had literally run out of tears from all those cheerless January weeks of sobbing to himself in his dormitory because his adoring headmaster was dying. It was Dumbledore's funeral, and he could not even bring himself to cry. He felt so hollow and so utterly alone. He knew that without Dumbledore there to protect him, he would surely die sometime in the near future. He could almost hear Lord Voldemort laughing from overhead as the mourning throng stood on that frosty precipice, shivering as snow flurries whispered about their black garments and reddening ears.

Ginny had since broken up with him; everything she had loved about Harry had been lost in his recent angst. He almost never came down from the boys' dormitory. Ron had told her that mostly all he ever did was cry. She could sense he was keeping something from her. She had never asked. In the end, she didn't really want to know. Harry's depression had begun to scare her; it was so profound, so imposing; she felt it might swallow her up along with him. So she finally did what Harry had told her to do as he was dying down in the Chamber of Secrets; she got herself out.

Ever since that night when Harry had woken up screaming loud about hugging Snape, Ron had ceased to understand his best friend's behaviour. He knew his mate was going through something profound but there seemed to be nothing he could offer him this time to ease his load. And Ron wanted to have fun his sixth year. Sure, these were dark times, but that did not seem to lessen his desire to go to Hogsmeade and stuff his face with candy, play Wizard's chess or to exact revenge on the Slytherins. These were supposed to be the happiest, most carefree years of their lives, and Ron wasn't about to waste them. That is not to say that it was not with a twinge of regret that he had to leave Harry up there weeping into his bed sheets when he went out to play. Ron knew that if anyone should be allowed to cry that long and hard, it was Harry. It was as if he suddenly realized what all he had been through, and that it had been too much.

* * *

_"Have you spoken to Snape?" Hermione had whispered into his ear one night after she had snuck into the boy's dormitory out of desperation to talk to her hurting friend, "What happened that day he took you to his office, Harry? Did he hurt you?"_

_Harry shook his head furiously, while still face down in his pillow. Hermione felt as if she was talking to a small child; that was essentially what Harry had become in his depression._

_"You can tell me about it, Harry. It's okay," she spoke soothingly, rubbing his pyjama-clad back._

_Harry was unresponsive._

_"We're all so very worried about you, Harry," Hermione whispered caringly, "Please, won't you go to Madame Pomfrey?"_

_Harry sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes._

_"But I'm okay, Hermione. You shouldn't worry so much. I'm just really sad right now. Dumbledore is going to die!" Harry blurted that last out as if she had not yet heard._

_"I know, sweetheart," Hermione hugged Harry, tears welling up in her own eyes, "But you've got to hold on, Harry, even though it might seem like there's not much to hold on to right now. Know that I am here if you ever want to talk."_

* * *

_"Miss Granger! A word, if you please," Snape had called out to her across the classroom at the end of her Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson a week before Dumbledore's death._

_Hermione's heart stopped. She did not even hear the Slytherins' catcalls. What did he want from her? Had she done something wrong?_

_"I am so sorry, Professor, for whatever it is that I did," she said quickly, with a hint of fear in her voice, "What did I do?"_

_"It's not you, Miss Granger; it's Mr. Potter," Snape said flatly._

_"Oh, sir, please…" Hermione was desperate not to have him hurt Harry anymore than she was sure he already had. _

_"What's he been up to? Why hasn't he been in class?"_

_"Harry has been going through a really rough time, sir," Hermione began, "please don't punish him. He's already so sad."_

_"But is he all right? He hasn't spoken of hurting himself or anything?" Snape's hard voice softened, much to Hermione's surprise. Hearing Snape seem to be concerned about Harry's well-being…it was touching._

_"I'm so scared for him, sir," Hermione let down her defences, "But yes, for the time being, he seems to be relatively okay, although extremely depressed."_

_"Has his scar been hurting him?" Snape suddenly wondered aloud, as a sharp pain shot up his dark mark._

_"I don't know, sir," Hermione turned away when she saw her professor grab at his arm, "he hasn't mentioned it. He will barely speak to me. Whenever I ask him anything, he just tells me not to worry."_

_"Thank you, Hermione;" Snape said softly, "You may go now."_

_The young witch left without a word, both visibly affected and agitated by Snape's bizarre behaviour. This did not bother Snape. Hermione was an intelligent girl; he trusted her. Harry was so imprudent; he could learn a good thing or two from her._

_Though Potter is right about one thing, Snape admitted to himself, Granger shouldn't have to worry about him. That's my job._

_His dark mark continued to sting; the throbbing would not subside._

_The Dark Lord was calling him. The time had come._

* * *

"Albus Dumbledore was a magnificent wizard and a great man," an unfamiliar voice thundered down from the faraway podium, "the wizarding world will never be the same." 

Harry stood stoically in a sea of crying witches and wizards. Hermione was off at the other end of the crowd, crying into Ron's shoulder. Ginny was crying into the other. It all seemed so unreal, almost like he had been the one who had died. He might as well have. Nothing mattered, anymore.

"Mr. Potter?" a familiar voice came from behind him, one that, in the past few months had not sounded exactly cruel.

"Professor?" Harry whispered, turning around. It was him! _The git!_

"Where have you been?" Harry shouted quietly, but furiously, like he had been hurt.

"I might ask you the same thing," Snape responded softly.

"I needed you!" Harry said forcefully.

"You should have come to my class! You should have come to see me!"

"What, and have you stand up there and ridicule me like you've always done? It hurts when you make fun of me, especially when I'm already sad."

"But I never meant any of it, Harry! Lately, I've just been saying all those mean things to protect you! To protect you, Harry!"

"And I did try to go see you! I went to your quarters the day before yesterday; you weren't there!"

* * *

From across the crowd, Fred and George took note of the dramatic scene unfolding. 

"Would you look at that Fred? Potter's having a fight with Snape."

"A fight at a funeral?" Fred responded, "How base can you get? Here's to betting Snape started it."

"Oh, no doubt there. The greasy git."

"Potter looks like he's about ready to punch him!"

"Here's to hoping he hits where it hurts!"

"But would you look at that? It looks like Snape's already injured!"

"Yeah, look at his arm there. Why's he showing it to Potter like that?!"

"Looks like Snape's getting right angsty on us!"

"Oh yeah, he's a cutter."

"Wha- What's Potter doing?"

"Doesn't look so much like he's going to pummel Snape anymore does he?!"

"Come on Harry! We're cheering for you mate!" Fred hollered across the moor.

"Mother…Mother of God…" George gasped, "Fred?"

"I see it too," Fred confirmed shakily.

"Is that Professor Snape? Hugging Harry Potter?" Padma Patil wondered aloud.

They all stood silently for a moment watching the two foes embracing.

"That's heavy," Fred and George muttered in unison.

* * *

Like many of my titles "_A Prayer from Your Secret Gods"_ is a small excerpt from a song, in this case, from the song _Building__ a Mystery_ by Canadian artist Sarah McLachlan. 

I appreciate all your feedback! Keep reading and reviewing :)


	11. If Not For Me

**Chapter Eleven** - _If Not For Me_

"I will no longer be reporting to the Dark Lord," Snape said quietly, "and neither should you, Draco."

"WHAT?" Draco spat, "First I catch you down at the funeral feeling up Potter! Now you're telling me that you're going over to the other side? No. No. My father and I, we won't allow it."

"Lord Voldemort would not allow it either. He tried to kill me. And yet...here I stand," Snape smirked, immensely pleased with himself.

"You arrogant bastard! You're a traitor!" Draco yelled angrily.

"Draco," Snape began in a more somber tone, "You ought to be grateful for this change of events. We have been greatly unburdened."

"Unburdened? UNBURDENED? All I had to do before this happened was to take out an old man! As you can see, I failed to do so! Now the Dark Lord is going to murder me and he is going to murder you too. We are DOOMED." Draco's voice broke as he ranted on.

"Lord Voldemort is not currently in a position to take over Hogwarts. Until such a time, it is the safest place for you, Draco. I implore you to stay," Snape tried to reason with the worked-up blonde.

"How is Hogwarts safe with the old man gone? I heard that...I heard that he was the only wizard the Dark Lord was ever afraid of," Draco's furious voice suddenly went down to a whisper.

"And I hope to live up to his example," Snape sneered.

"But...you're not?"

"I am. As of this morning, Professor McGonagall saw it fit to transfer her duties to me once she had been convinced of my loyalty," Snape said softly, remembering the look on Minerva's face when she had seen him giving Harry a hug. The way her eyebrows had lifted and her thin lips had quivered: it had been as if she had suddenly changed her mind about something tremendously important.

* * *

_"Severus..." she began thoughtfully, "What you did out there...that was so...surprising." She admonished herself immediately for her word choice. She had wanted to say "sweet". Still, attributing that word to Snape still seemed somewhat wrong._

_"I care about him, Minerva," Snape admitted with feigned reluctance, "I did not fully realize it until just recently. But he is Lily's son just as much as he is James'"_

_"You really loved her," Minerva said looking at Severus compassionately, "Didn't you, Severus?"_

_"Of course," Snape responded quietly, "I have and I always will."_

_"That's just..." Minerva began, visibly touched._

_"Surprising?" Snape smiled sadly, looking at the floor._

_"I just didn't realize how affectionate you were, Severus," Minerva said quickly, "Not until this morning."_

_"I broke ranks with Lord Voldemort last night," Snape redirected the conversation, "I cannot be a spy for the Order anymore. But I wish to continue...our fight."_

_"Oh thank God, Severus!" Minerva sounded very relieved, much to Snape's surprise, "It's about time!"_

_There was a quietness that followed. Both knew that the circumstances posed a question that begged an answer._

_"Severus," McGonagall began contemplatively, "would you consider..."_

* * *

"My father would never allow me to stay," Draco said, almost disappointedly, "not after what you've done."

"Draco, listen to me, please--" Snape's appeal was cut short as Draco stormed off out of the dungeons, "DRACO! Come back here!"

_Another soul lost_, the mysterious professor mused painfully as he knocked over one of his potion shelves in an untempered rage, _Another child lost to an indoctrination of another kind. All these poor kids... None of this was meant to become their burden. None of this was their fault.  
_

* * *

"You're the new headmaster?" Harry Potter responded to his professor's news, "I never thought that I would say this, but I guess I'm kind of... glad."

Severus Snape too, never thought we would do what he did just then; he almost smiled at the boy-who-lived.

"I'm just glad you are feeling better, Harry," Snape said instead, his eyes turned downwards to the paperwork spread out on his desk.

"I can't believe you told Voldemort off," Harry marveled, "you're really dauntless, professor!"

"I can't believe I survived to tell the tale," Snape grimaced at his own honesty, "I probably should not have done it. I have put myself and all of you in danger."

"No!" Harry insisted, "It's better this way, sir. Voldemort was hurting you. You said you had to just sit there and watch him kill people. It wasn't right."

"Yes," Snape admitted, "but my duplicity came in very handy in the past. I hesitate to say so but if not for me, and what I did--"

"I'd be dead, I know," Harry blurted out, meeting his new headmaster's black eyes. They bored into his, like always.

"Perhaps," Snape rejoined hastily, looking the young man's intense expression over carefully, "But one never knows with you, Mr. Potter."


	12. Hell Hath No Wrath

**Chapter Twelve** - _Hell Hath No Wrath Like The Dark Lord Scorned_

"BLAST!" the grey-cloaked wizard blared, his back turned to his quaking followers, "Do you know what this means?"

No one dared to answer.

"Dumbledore died a natural death. Because of this, the Elder Wand's powers have died with him," the Dark Lord answered his own question.

"Severus Snape is to blame," Wormtail offered shakily.

"DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK?" Voldemort thundered, turning his sunken eyes on his subjugated entourage, "Draco Malfoy was supposed to take out Dumbledore. But yes, Severus Snape, that half-blood traitor, must have been working against him the entire time. _Snape…" _the Dark Lord's nostrils flared, "…will pay for his treachery. Draco, my _boy_, this is your last chance. You will kill Severus Snape. Then, you will bring Harry Potter to me." The sallow-skinned man smiled evilly in the blonde's direction.

Draco Malfoy stepped ahead from the line of Death Eaters, his head lowered in servitude.

"Do you understand, Draco Malfoy? It will be redemption or death for you," Voldemort intoned menacingly.

"Yes, my Lord," Draco answered softly.

"The Dark Lord is merciful!" Narcissa added automatically.

"Make sure that I am satisfied," the Dark Lord said dangerously after looking the mother and son over for signs of objection, but finding none.

Yet, from where he was, Harry could see that there were tears were forming in the Malfoy's umber eyes.

The Dark Lord had turned away, his thin fingers caressing his bald green head.

"It seems," Voldemort whispered dramatically, whipping around, "that this meeting is no longer private."

* * *

"SHIT!" Harry awoke in his bed with a cuss word on his lips. He quickly scanned the Gryffindor bedchamber. Ron was still snoring soundly. He must not have made a sound until now. Anger had him trembling as he fumbled with his glasses.

He sat on the edge of his bed for a moment, remembering that there was no Dumbledore to report this to anymore. He didn't want to tell Snape; he would be angry because Harry had failed to keep Voldemort out of his mind.

Tears involuntarily welled up in his eyes as he erred awhile in the corridors, hesitating outside of Professor McGonagall's quarters. Finally, he knocked on her door.

"Potter! What's the matter?" the older witch questioned, worry etched in her face as she opened the door to the trembling teenager, "Did you have another dream?"

Harry nodded, resignedly.

"Oh, dear," McGonagall sighed, "What are we going to do with you?"

"He knew…Voldemort knew that I could see them," Harry explained agitatedly, "He and his Death Eaters. He's going to…"

"Hold on there, Potter," McGonagall stopped him, "I really think it would be better if we included Professor Snape in on this conversation. He is much more…knowledgeable in this area."

Harry's heart lurched. Even though he had reconciled with Snape, he didn't really want to have to see him in the middle of the night when he was all worked up like this. It was embarrassing enough to wake his own head of house.

"Okay, Professor," Harry said quietly, "Shall I wake him?"

"No, that won't be necessary," McGonagall's tone softened, "You may stay here, Potter, in my sitting room. I will be back with Professor Snape shortly. We'll sort through all this together."

Harry nodded meekly as Professor McGonagall darted off down the darkened corridor. He took a seat on McGonagall's Gryffindor red sofa where he would wait for what seemed like an eternity.

Ten minutes later Snape entered the room with McGonagall. He was wearing his black robes, just as he did during the day. His greasy hair was not even disheveled. Did the man even sleep?

"I understand that you have had another dream," Snape said softly as he took a seat opposite Harry on a gold-coloured wingback chair, "What happened in it?"

"Sir, Vold- the Dark Lord-… he wants us killed," Harry whispered uneasily.

"No surprises there," Snape smiled sadly.

"Yes sir, but, he wants Draco to do it. He has ordered Draco to kill you, and to bring me to him," Harry added tensely.

Snape's face fell suddenly.

"He knows Professor, he knew that I saw this," Harry mentioned anxiously, "he found out right as I was waking up."

Then Snape's expression went from forlorn to stormy.

"I'm so sorry, Professor. It's all my fault. It's because I haven't been able to close my mind," Harry murmured, looking at the floor.

Severus looked the dejected teenager over carefully. The boy was shuddering. He wished he could simply scold him. He wished it were that simple.

"No, Harry. It is not your fault," Snape replied softly, resting his hand transiently on the teenager's quivering shoulder. _I only wish that it were_, he thought.

"I can't believe this," Minerva interjected with alarm in her voice, "the Malfoy boy is supposed to kill you? What are we going to do?"

"Frankly, I am more worried about Draco than I am about myself," Severus began cagily, "because Draco would never…"

"How can you be sure of that?" Minerva wondered aloud, "I am sure you-know-who has threatened him with death."

"He did," Harry clarified, "But when his back was turned, I saw that Draco and Narcissa were crying."

Snape nodded solemnly as if he expected it.

"Still, the Dark Lord's ire is cause for concern," Snape recapped.

"Which means?" Minerva inquired fearfully.

"Which means, henceforth, that I will not be letting Potter out of my sight," Severus declared, his black eyes intense with an old blend of burden and fury.


	13. All My Childish Fears

**Chapter Thirteen** – _All My Childish Fears_

"But sir…is this really necessary?" Harry questioned apprehensively, as Snape led him down the tenebrous corridor towards his new quarters.

"I won't be taking any 'buts' from you, Potter. Especially not tonight," Snape said sternly, tightening his grip on the boy's arm as they turned a corner, "And I assure you this is most necessary. Otherwise, believe me, I would not be having you sleep in my quarters. The last thing I want to be doing at three in the morning is dealing with your night terrors."

Harry felt cast down by Snape's sudden harshness. It suddenly occurred to him that Snape must really not enjoy looking out for him all the time_. I must really be such a burden to him_, Harry thought, suddenly embarrassed by the fact that Snape had to spend so much of his time protecting him.

"Well, will you have to hold on to me like this all the time?" Harry wondered aloud, "I mean, I don't think you would enjoy—"

Snape let go of Harry's arm without saying anything, casting him a guarded look. They had arrived outside of the headmaster's quarters.

"Dimidium Cruor Procer," Snape uttered mysteriously, causing the staircase to open.

"Is that the new password, sir?" Harry asked curiously.

"Yes," Snape answered caustically.

"Is it in Latin? What does it mean?"

"If I told you that I'd have to kill you," Snape sneered. The last thing he wanted was for the boy to learn more about his discomforting youth than he already had.

Harry was once again taken aback by Snape's callousness. Snape had said that it wasn't his fault, but he was obviously still angry about what he had let happen.

Snape took him by the arm again and led him quickly through the headmaster's office into his own sitting room. While he still had Harry facing him, Snape pulled a vial out from his robes and pressed it into the boy's hand.

"Take this. It will help you sleep," Snape explained shortly.

"What is it?" Harry asked inquiringly.

"It is a Dreamless Sleeping Draught. It will clear your mind," Snape enlightened him with a hint of fatigue in his voice, "So, no nightmares."

"Thank you," Harry said quietly.

Snape made up the sofa with a simple charm. Harry quickly got under the green covers after being motioned to do so by Snape. They felt cool and comfortable against his sweaty skin.

"Do not forget your draught," Snape reminded him softly.

"What's an Elder's Wand?" Harry suddenly remembered the mysterious object Voldemort had evoked.

"Heard about that in your dream, did you? Well, I would imagine that is of little consequence anymore," Snape replied calmly, "Your draught, Potter."

Harry did not understand why Snape would not answer any of his questions. What had he done to make him this cross? He had to ask. He did not think he could possibly get to sleep without making things right somehow.

"I'm sorry, Professor Snape, but are you mad at me?" Harry asked fretfully.

It was now Severus' turn to be taken aback. He stood silently for a moment, wondering how Harry could have possibly gotten that impression. He fussed over the young Gryffindor more than any other student in the school and it still wasn't coddling enough for him?! He couldn't believe that spoiled brat sometimes…!

Then, despite himself, Snape smiled sadly.

"Mad? At you?" He looked down at the distressed boy, whose green eyes blinked. "You drive me mad sometimes," he chuckled wearily, "Swallow that draught now or I _will_ spoon-feed it to you."

At last, Harry obeyed. He figured that if Snape was not mad at him already, spoon-feeding him would definitely put his headmaster in a sour mood. As the draught settled in Harry's stomach, all the questions he had weighing on his mind receded and he laid his head down on his pile of soft pillows without a care in the world.

He was just nearly asleep when he heard Snape say quietly, "Goodnight, Harry."

* * *

_Goodnight_? Snape rolled his eyes at himself after he had said it. He could not think of one worse. There would be no sleep for him that night. He needed to stay alert to monitor the boy and to watch his own back, for that matter. 

The headmaster took a seat in a dark grey chair next to the sofa. After he was sure the boy was asleep, Snape cast a lumos spell so that he could continue reading _Potion-Making Through the Ages_. As much as he enjoyed the power that came with being headmaster, he did miss having free time to spend brewing potions.

What was it the boy had said earlier? _"I really don't think you would enjoy—"_ Snape smirked as he remembered the cut-off phrase. How could the boy be so presumptuous and yet so thoughtful at the same time?

And how had a talented wizard such as he, so taken with the Dark Arts, become a full-time babysitter?

Sitting there in that grey chair, watching the normally neurotic boy sleep peacefully next to him, Severus Snape could not shake the feeling that he was living somebody else's life.

* * *

"Wake up, Potter," Snape demanded unceremoniously. 

Harry woke with a start to see his headmaster looming over him. He quickly scrambled to his feet.

"What time is it, sir? Did I oversleep?" Harry asked nervously after his rude awakening.

Snape was startled by Harry's speedy wake-up. He had expected the boy to be lethargic and whiney as he regained his senses, like most human beings. This was one more thing to add to his list of reasons why something about Potter was not quite right.

"No, you're making good time so far, Mr. Potter," Snape smirked, "I will walk you back to Gryffindor tower now so that you can get ready to go to breakfast."

"Couldn't we just---" Harry began, wondering why they couldn't just _accio_ his things over there.

"Yes, we could, but I thought you might like to be there in person to allay your little friends' fears," the headmaster responded teasingly.

"Yeah, true," Harry responded honestly, "I'll go willingly though, you don't have to, you know…"

"You won't run away?" Snape asked seriously as Harry put on his shoes.

"Of course not. Why would I run away?" Harry quickly dispelled Snape's fear that the boy might try to flee like an Azkaban inmate.

"Fine. But stay close," Snape conceded, opening the door for the bedraggled teenager.

* * *

"Still getting by in Potions?" Snape queried as they made their way to Gryffindor tower. The halls were relatively empty. Harry figured it must have been quite early in the morning. 

"I'm doing all right," Harry fibbed. He was acing potions, thanks to the Half-Blood Prince. He didn't want anyone to know that though.

"Just all right?" Snape questioned, knowingly, "Professor Slughorn tells me you're a natural."

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," Harry admitted.

Snape snorted, "Well, I guess we'll see this afternoon at your lesson."

"You're coming with me?" Harry gasped, "Is that really necessary?"

"Potter, do you think I am senseless? We both know how ludicrous that would look," Snape retorted, "You won't be going to your classes. You will be receiving private tutoring from me until further notice."

"Wow," Harry exclaimed, "You're really serious about this not letting me out of your sight thing aren't you? What about when I have to go to the loo?"

"I'm not a pervert, Potter," Snape snapped, "you'll be going it alone to the loo, I'm afraid." _God help me if you don't come out_, he thought apprehensively.

They had arrived at the entrance of Gryffindor tower. Harry announced the password and the Fat Lady let them pass, but not without casting Snape an inquisitive look as he went through.

Snape had not been in the Gryffindor common room since his student days at Hogwarts. As he walked into the red and gold room, he was immediately reminded of the night Lily had snuck him in and they had talked long into the night by the fire. And it was on that distant night, on that scarlet sofa that still stood before him, that he had had his first and last kiss.

_Lily_. Severus' black heart still quivered at the very thought of her. It had not ended well. But now he was here, with her only child, Her son. Snape had to keep reminding himself of that lately, because it was a fact that he had half-ignored for so long. He had always known it; it was the reason for his steadfastness; but seldom had he thought long about the fact that Harry Potter was Lily Evans' son. Seldom had he took the time to consider the arresting similarities between the beauty and the brat.

"Professor Snape?" a young female voice caught him off-guard as he daydreamt.

It was Hermione Granger, in her nightgown. Her thick brown hair was disheveled and she was holding her orange cat.

"Good Morning, Miss Granger," Snape smiled awkwardly as the embarrassment on her face registered with him. "I am just waiting here for Mr. Potter. There was an episode last night and, well, he'll tell you the rest."

Harry had returned already.

"I'm ready to go now," he said coming down the stairs, before he noticed Hermione was standing there agape in her bed wear.

"Oh, hi, Hermione. Yeah, Professor Snape follows me around everywhere now. He insists," Harry explained vaguely.

Snape rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air for extra measure.

"Is that so?" Hermione laughed.

"I trust _you_ know it's somewhat more complicated than that," Snape sneered.

"Of course," Hermione smiled sympathetically, "Uh, see you in the great hall, Harry. Professor Snape."

"Potter!" Snape scowled at him snidely after the girl had left for her dormitory, "_What_ was that?"

"I don't know sir. I guess I just didn't know how to explain it any better than that," Harry shrugged.

"I suppose I'll have to add Language Arts to your curriculum," Snape sighed. He might have been the boy who lived, but he was absolutely hopeless sometimes.

* * *

"Harry, don't you think this has gone on long enough?" Ron groaned upon learning about Snape's surveillance methods, "This all seems rather questionable to me." 

"Ron!" Hermione scolded him, "Don't you understand? Voldemort is at large and Snape is acting as Harry's guardian. He's here to protect him."

"I get that much," grumbled Ron, "But Dumbledore was here to protect Harry too and he never did any of this stuff."

"Things were different then," Harry reminded him, "Voldemort is more powerful than ever now. It does seem all a little excessive but Snape means well. You know how he is. Always taking things to extremes."

"I know how he is all right," Ron guffawed as he stuffed his face with toast, "The man has gone mad! I mean, just look at him!"

The trio looked up at their headmaster who was calmly having a conversation with Professor McGonagall at the head table.

"I'd say he's more sane than ever," Hermione defended him.

"I liked him better when he was mean," Ron confessed, "at least then I was sure… of what I thought."

"Well Ron, you might just get your wish," Harry declared quietly, "Snape's been acting a lot more like his old self lately. I don't think he likes me much anymore."

Hermione frowned. Then she looked at Snape pensively for a moment before she turned to her friend and said, "No, Harry. I don't think that's true."

* * *

"First lesson will be Occulmency," Snape announced unemotionally once he had Harry sitting down in a vacant classroom. 

"But sir…I'm not sure if I'm able," Harry protested.

"What did I tell you about questioning my methods?" Snape warned, "To be honest, I am not sure if you are capable of occulmency either. But we have to try."

"Okay. I'll try," Harry agreed reluctantly.

"Good," Snape said smirking, "because you have no choice."

Harry made a face. Snape was treating him like a little child.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about before we begin?" Snape asked softly.

"Aren't you going to remove your memories first?" Harry asked, confused.

"Do you see a pensieve in this room?" Snape responded in a neutral tone and then waited a few moments before he repeated his invitation, "Do you have anything else you would like to ask? Anything you would like to get off your mind before we begin?"

"No," Harry said, "Not that I can think of."

"Prepare yourself then," Snape instructed, "Concentrate on closing your mind."

Harry shut his eyes tight as if it would keep his headmaster out of his head. He could almost feel Snape sneering at him.

"Legilimens!" Snape felt a warm rush as he penetrated Harry's mind with unprecedented ease.

* * *

_Harry was having an argument with Ronald Weasley_

_"…all a bit questionable if you ask me," the red head said.  
_

_"…Snape means well," Harry tried to explain.  
_

* * *

_Voldemort was speaking to his Death Eaters_

_"…Snape will pay…for his treachery…Draco…"  
_

* * *

_ Hermione Granger was crying at the Yule Ball._

_"To bed, both of you," she snapped at Potter and Weasley.  
_

* * *

_Voldemort was speaking to Harry as he lay on the floor of the Department of Mysteries._

_"You will lose…everything."  
_

* * *

Snape was just about to draw out and reprimand Potter for not trying hard enough, that was, until…

* * *

_A large boy was taunting Harry on an abandoned playground about Cedric Diggory's and his parents' deaths._

_"Where's mummy now, Potter? She dead?"  
_

* * *

_ He was yelling at Harry a year ago during his last occulmency lesson._

_"You're just like your father! Rude! Arrogant!…"  
_

* * *

_ An obese man threw a younger Harry into a cupboard under a staircase._

_"…you'll wish you'd never been born, boy!"  
_

* * *

_ "Hurry up and make breakfast!" Lily's sister Petunia snapped at a younger Harry. He couldn't have been even nine years old. When he made his cousin's eggs the wrong way, she hit him.  
_

* * *

_ A fat, red-haired woman sitting at a table said, "Actually, it all has to do with the mother. If there's something wrong with the bitch, there's something wrong with the pup!" _

_"SHUT UP!" an older Harry bellowed.  
_

* * *

_"I'll be up in my room, pretending that I don't exist," Harry assured the obese man who had earlier thrown him in the cupboard.  
_

* * *

_"No matter. I can touch you now…" a resurrected Voldemort cackled, burning Harry's forehead with his fingers.  
_

* * *

"ENOUGH!" Snape announced forcefully, pulling out of Harry's heartbreaking memories, "Why didn't you fight back?" 

"I didn't want to see anything from your memories that you didn't want me to see," Harry explained timidly, "I didn't want to make you angry, like last time."

Snape ignored this.

"What were those memories from, Harry?" he asked softly, "Who were those people?"

"I assume you mean my family," Harry whispered, his face red with shame. Snape suddenly realized that the boy had been crying.

"So that man was…"

"My Uncle Vernon. He used to get really angry when I used magic by accident," Harry explained quietly, "he still does, actually."

"Was that how they punished you? By locking you in that cupboard?" Snape questioned.

"Yes, sir. Well, no, not exactly, sir. That used to be my bedroom," Harry said matter-of-factly.

"What about the fat boy? The one who was bullying you?"

"That was my cousin, Dudley," Harry whispered. That memory was the one that had bothered him the most.

"Your aunt, she hit you?" Snape inquired in disbelief.

"Sometimes, but mostly it was Uncle Vernon who did that," Harry clarified self-consciously, "with his belt."

Snape gaped at him. He seemed lost for words.

"It's no big deal though," Harry added quietly, "I'm sure it happens to loads of people."

"You were abused," Snape declared softly, shaking his head, "I can't believe this. I had no idea."

"I wasn't abu-"

"Yes, you were," Snape said firmly, "I can't believe I didn't see the signs before, when I myself…"

Severus jolted as he had a flashback of Tobias cornering him as a child in his old house in Spinner's End.

_"You freak…"_

"But the none of that ever bothered me," Harry whispered, becoming emotional again, "not really. What bothered me was the way they all spoke badly of my mum. Aunt Petunia…she always called her a freak and then Aunt Marge blamed her for the way I turned out and then Dudley…." The teenaged boy burst out in tears.

Snape had no choice but to hug him, then.

"You turned out just fine, Harry," Snape assured the boy once he had him in his arms, "and you'll just have to believe me when I say you remind me more and more of your mother everyday."

"But you…you called my mum a…" Harry suddenly remembered angrily, pulling away.

But Snape had started to explain before Harry had even begun.

"…most unproud moment of my entire life," he finished sorrowfully, speaking to the pair of watery green eyes.

Wavering, Harry stared up at the professor who had tormented and protected him for all of those years. Then something he saw in those glittering black eyes changed everything.

After that, nothing looked the same.

* * *

Note:

Once again, I appreciate all your reviews:) Responding to an anonymous review I recently received, yes, I have included many elements and quotes present only in the HP movies and not the books. This is because I personally take J.K. Rowling's high estimation of the films to mean that they are fairly congruent with canon. 


	14. I Don't Know You But I Still Want To

**Chapter Fourteen** – _I Don't Know You; But I Still Want To_

Severus glowered as he sat at his desk in the headmaster's office. Harry was asleep in the room adjacent. Like the night before, Severus had given the boy a dreamless sleeping draught to help temper his nightmares and troubling visions. He looked down at the paperwork before him. Every night since Dumbledore's funeral he had filled out the same set of forms, only to discard them the next morning. Now, however, circumstances had changed. The course of action that he was considering had once seemed problematic but now it appeared quite straightforward. What was once questionable was now only sensible.

_Tonight I will tell Minerva about my plan_, Snape thought to himself, _she will understand that I have no choice._

"Severus, what are you doing?" the voice probed him with cruel kindness. It was not the first time. "You're keeping Harry here. Why? I need to speak with him, Severus. There are things he needs to know."

_And they say you cannot bring back the dead_, Snape sneered at the sound of the old man's voice coming from his wall, _I'd like to know how to really get rid of them. This one, at least._

From day one, Snape had decided to ignore Albus Dumbledore's portrait; it would do no good to encourage the departed wizard to try to communicate with him. His greatest concern was that Harry would recall the portrait's existence. This was the reason why he never allowed the child to stay very long in that room. And never ever alone.

"You wanted to speak with me, headmaster?" Minerva's voice startled him. He had been engrossed in filling out the papers for a final time. He quickly gathered them together and shoved them in a random desk drawer.

"Am I disturbing you, Severus?" Minerva inquired curiously, "You did say you wanted to speak with me this evening at dinner."

"Yes, Minerva," Severus began earnestly, and then stopped not knowing how to proceed.

"How are your lessons going with Potter?" Minerva thought she was making small talk, little did she know…

"That's just it, Minerva," Snape said worriedly, "It's Potter."

"What has he done this time?" Minerva agonized aloud. She had feared Snape and Potter's good rapport would never last.

"No, Minerva. Potter…he hasn't done anything…wrong," Snape explained delicately, "It's what has been done to him."

"You've seen…" Minerva began in awe, "You've started occulmency with him again, haven't you?"

"Yes, and he's absolutely hopeless at it," Snape snapped automatically. He only did it because Harry's fragility frightened him and he secretly blamed himself for it. Having treated Harry the way he did and then learning that the boy got far worse at home upset him deeply. He too had wronged the boy without fully understanding exactly how much at the time.

McGonagall ignored this. "We all know Potter goes through hell just about every year, " she lamented, "I can't even imagine what horrors you might have seen."

"Neither would have I…imagined," Snape admitted, watching as McGonagall raised an eyebrow in appalled surprise as she wondered what kind of cruel torture would shock a former Death Eater so.

"Minerva," Snape whispered, remembering that Harry was sleeping next door and not wanting to wake him, "the boy has been abused by his relatives. Physical, emotional torture…"

McGonagall gaped at Snape in with a look of positive revulsion on her face, "But Lily's sister! She would never! They would never! Who would ever? He's…he's…Harry Potter for Christ's sake! Dumbledore assured me that it was the best place for him. I remember I had my reservations...But I cannot believe…"

"Shhh!" Snape hushed his colleague, motioning to the door that opened to his sitting room, "The boy is sleeping."

Minerva silently chastised herself for forgetting about his proximity.

"They have beaten him, belittled him, starved him," Snape continued with quiet rage, "And I could tell just by observing the way they looked at him: they just really don't care about the brat at all, Minerva."

"This is all my fault," the old witch expressed her sincere guilt for what had befallen her favourite student, "Will he ever forgive me, I wonder?"

"We are all to blame," Snape threw in remorsefully, "But it is incumbent on us to amend this now. Potter must not return to live with those people, blood relatives or not."

"But Potter is still a child," Minerva stated. _In so many ways_, she added mentally, thinking of the way the sixth-year still had to wake them when he had a nightmare. "He is not nearly ready to live on his own. He needs someone to look after him, even now."

"I will do it," Snape volunteered suddenly, trying his best to pretend as if the thought had just occurred to him.

"You, Severus?" Minerva questioned hesitantly, "Are you sure? You have just barely gotten to know the boy, really. For years, you—"

"I don't see why not," Snape snapped, "I am basically his guardian at Hogwarts already."

"But Severus, taking Potter away from his relatives, legally that is, that would involve…"

"Adopting him. I know," Snape acknowledged, "But do I really have a choice?"

Inexplicably, Minerva smiled a little bit at a hint of something she saw in Snape's rich black eyes.

"What?" Snape grumbled self-consciously.

"Nothing, Severus. It's nothing," Minerva replied gently, "I was just thinking, you know, maybe it is a good idea after all."

"Good," Snape cleared his throat, "I'm glad you agree, Minerva."

"You know that this type of thing requires a lot of paperwork," Minerva reminded him, "And it will require Petunia Dursley's signature unfortunately, as muggles cannot be tried in wizards' courts, not even for child abuse. And from what I have heard, proving this type of thing in muggle courts can be damn near impossible without what they call physical evidence," Minerva humphed, "and as Harry has been in our charge for the past seven months…"

Snape nodded curtly, "I am aware, Minerva. I have actually given this quite a bit of thought and I have already finished my part of the documentation."

McGonagall was further surprised when Snape pulled out the papers and handed them to her, fully completed, save for Petunia's signature.

"Does Potter know?" Minerva whispered.

"No," Snape said quickly, "I haven't told him yet."

"How do you think he might react?" Minerva inquired, curiously.

"I have no idea," Snape confessed. He really didn't, this time.

* * *

When Harry awoke the next morning, his green eyes on the grey ceiling, it was still with that one thought on his mind that had preoccupied him the day before. _Snape loved my mother_. 

He did not know how; he was not sure why, or what had been the result. He just knew when he had seen a tear in Snape's eye the day before that his headmaster had loved his mother and even maybe, in an impossible way, still did.

"Are you awake, Harry?" the gentleness of his ordinarily surly headmaster's voice startled him. Harry jumped to his feet.

"Woah woah!" Snape exclaimed nearly catching him in his arms as the boy sprung out of bed, "Not so fast. We're in no rush today. It's Saturday, remember?"

"I forgot," Harry replied quietly, sitting back down on the sofa.

"That's okay, Harry," Snape assured him as if it were a common mistake, "It's my fault for disturbing you. But now that you are awake, I do want to talk with you, if that is all right."

"About what?" Harry asked suspiciously, not wanting to give out any more embarrassing details about his mistreatment at the hands of the Dursleys.

"Don't you trust me, Harry?" Snape asked softly, saddened by the boy's enduring look of suspicion. He sat down next to him.

Harry looked down at his hands, discomfited by how he felt.

"I think I…" he whispered trailing off and then beginning again, "I want to."

The boy's wounds may not have been immediately visible, but Severus saw that their depth was miraculous. He gave Harry a quick hug, which, to his relief, the boy returned with no trouble.

"My treatment of you these past years has been nothing less than shameful, Harry," Snape finally admitted, "It moves me that you would even want to trust me at all."

"I do. I do trust you," Harry revised his past statement, warmed by his headmaster's hug.

Snape gave him a sad smile, knowing the boy's initial statement held true.

"After what happened yesterday, Harry, I realized that I still don't know you very well at all," Snape continued.

"Yeah. Me too," Harry admitted as well.

"What was that?" Snape asked, confused.

"I realized yesterday too. That I barely know you," Harry explained undauntedly, "You had a whole life, before I was even born. I hadn't given much thought to that before."

_I wonder what made the boy realize that_, Snape thought self-consciously, not responding.

"I want to adopt you, Harry," Snape broke the silence with his ultimate admission, "You cannot go back to those people."

"But I could. It's only one more year…that's all right, sir. You don't have to…" Harry felt embarrassed that Snape felt he had to do that.

"No, Harry. They hurt you," Snape disapproved severely, "I won't let you go back there. I won't let you be hurt like that again." _I would **never**__ forgive myself_, he thought.

"But adopt me, sir? I'm not a little kid. I'm almost seventeen," Harry wondered aloud.

"You might have noticed that you're no ordinary sixteen year old, Harry," Snape prompted him patiently, "It would be primarily for your safety."

He caught Harry looking at him intently then. Why in Merlin's name was he looking at him like that?

Nothing could have prepared him for the confounding question that came next.

"Professor Snape," Harry began thoughtfully, connecting with the somber black eyes, "Tell me the truth. Are you my father?"


	15. Fifteen For A Moment

**Chapter Fifteen** – _Fifteen For A Moment_

Previously:

_"Professor Snape," Harry began thoughtfully, "Tell me the truth. Are you my father?"  
_

* * *

What an unsettling silence followed…

Snape just stared at the green-eyed boy, perplexed by the profundity of the inference he had just made. He was in awe that Harry would have even known enough to come up with that question at all. Snape would never have guessed that Harry even knew of his and Lily's friendship at Hogwarts, let alone that fiery night of his fifth year.

Her silky skin, her ruby lace, her unsolved undertones…

_"Sev…you're so wicked…you're so---"_

_His hands all over her, she was his…for but a moment._

_"Lily Evans! Severus Snape!" a younger and more austere Albus Dumbledore shouted as he had happened upon their libidinous foreplay, "This is the Gryffindor common room, not a den of vice! Back to your respective dormitories, immediately!"_

_He had felt so ashamed at first, although anger at Dumbledore had finally replaced his indignity years later. At that moment though, he swore he would never touch a girl like that again. He could barely look at Lily as she quickly threw on her robe and dashed away, her auburn curls disappearing from view as she bounded up the stairs. _

_This incident only augmented his feelings of dishonor the next day, as James Potter had sent him up into the air and branded him Snivellus. Lily had come to his rescue and the blow to his pride had been too much to bear. He was supposed to be her man but he couldn't make love to her properly; he couldn't even defend himself…_

_For a moment, he had been so angry. Strong as she was, she made him feel so weak…_

The boy was still waiting for an answer, most patiently.

"Harry," Snape began cautiously, returning to the present, "I'm not. I'm not your father."

Harry just continued to sit and stare at him.

"I don't know why you would think that," Snape decided to chuckle at the boy's lack of common sense. _Have you looked at yourself lately? _Snape was inclined to ask but guessed it might come off as insensitive. "If you were my son, why would I be adopting you?" he posed instead.

After a time the boy said, "I don't understand then…sir. Why are you being so nice to me now? I thought you hated me. If it's not because you found out that I am your son, then why? You don't owe me anything."

Snape snorted, "The wizarding world might disagree with you there."

"I'm serious!" Harry protested, "You never fell for any of that. You told me yourself, last year. Remember that? You told me to my face that I wasn't anything special. Now this year you want to adopt me. Forgive me, sir, but I am more than a little confused."

Snape quickly realized there was no getting out of this one. The boy wanted and deserved an answer. But he could not tell him the truth. He could not tell him that Albus Dumbledore had erected a magical barrier in his mind to curtail his affective capacities that had just recently given way. That would kill him if it didn't just confuse the hell out of him. Harry thought in muggle terms. The boy wanted a simple answer. He wanted Snape to attest to having changed his mind in a natural manner at a certain point in time because of something he had seen or heard, or, for that matter, hadn't seen or hadn't heard…but what?

On a whim, he delved into the boy's mind to try to get an idea of what he might mean.

"Harry Potter…." Snape began drolly, viewing the memories, "you're always saving people, aren't you?"

Harry shook his head. The boy knew he was playing with him.

"Fine," Snape said abruptly, "The truth is Harry…it was last year. After your last occulmency lesson… the one where you stole a look at what had to be my worst memory. I was furious, incensed. I really hated you then. But I was also afraid, afraid that you would tell the world what you had seen, at the very least your little friends. I fully expected that the news of my youthful spinelessness would spread through Hogwarts like wildfire. By the next morning, I thought, all these stupid children will be laughing at me. Any respect anyone had for me…any fear anyone had of me would be gone."

"But I never told a soul!" Harry avowed sincerely.

"I haven't finished!" Snape snapped, his black eyes glittering, "Like I said, I automatically assumed that you would tell. James would have. He would never have let me live it down. But you…you didn't tell anybody. Believe me, I checked repeatedly for weeks afterwards by using legilimency on just about every student in the school. I would have never asked anyone outright. Week after week, I would find that nobody knew about it except for you and me. Even in Potions, when I maliciously broke your flask on purpose to make you fail that assignment, you still didn't say anything. That's when I thought to myself, 'you know, maybe this Potter brat isn't so bad after all'."

Snape smirked, watching Harry's expression brighten. It hadn't felt like a lie.

_That sounded like the truth_, Harry thought to himself, _but that isn't all_.

"Professor Snape, did you know my mother back in school?" Harry risked.

Now _that_ sent chills up the headmaster's spine. _That's it_, Snape glowered, _somebody has been feeding the brat information._

"Who told you?" Snape demanded heatedly, "Dumbledore told you. Didn't he?"

"Told me what?" Harry asked, confused, "Nobody told me anything. That's why I am asking you."

Snape sighed. The brat was telling the truth, yet again. Potter was turning out to be more of an angel than he thought.

"I did. I knew your mother, Harry," Snape admitted quietly, "She was my best friend. She was…beautiful."

_I cannot believe I just said that_, Snape silently admonished himself. But the only thing worse than saying it would be to take it back.

"Was she your girlfriend?" Harry wanted to know.

_The nerve of that boy!_ Snape shook his head resignedly. _She was_, he thought miserably, _for **one**__ day_.

"I told you, we were _best_ friends," Snape insisted, somewhat impatiently.

"Oh," Harry exclaimed flatly.

_What was that? Did the boy look disappointed?! God Lord, James Potter must be rolling over in his grave!_

"Speaking of girlfriends, whatever happened to that Weasley girl I caught you snogging last autumn?" Snape asked, smirking.

"Ginny," Harry corrected, shifting his gaze to the floor, "We're not seeing each other anymore."

"Oh," Snape replied, sorry he had asked, but feeling impelled to inquire, "May I ask what happened?"

"There's just so much going on right now," Harry explained, flushing as if he had been unmanned, "It just became too much for us. We weren't…strong enough, I guess."

Since when had he become the boy's counselor? Snape frowned, feeling compelled to advise him.

"Don't push her away, Harry."


	16. Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? Part I

**Chapter Sixteen** – _Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? Part I_

"Are you allowed to come to Hogsmeade with us today, Harry?" Ron inquired in between chewing mouthfuls of his heavily buttered toast.

"We barely get to see you anymore!" Hermione added eagerly, "Surely Professor Snape would let you join us. I mean, he could join us for that matter!"

"What?" Ron butted in, spewing orange juice out his nose, "Hermione, you've got to be joking! I am not hanging out with that greasy git!"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, "That was completely uncalled-for!" Worrying irrationally that he may have heard, she looked up at their headmaster seated at the head table. She could not be sure whether she received a scowl or one of those half-smiles in return.

"I'm not sure what Snape has in mind for me today," Harry admitted noncommittally, "but the man has vowed not to let me out of his sight. He'd never let me go alone."

Hermione nodded understandingly.

"Well, he would be welcome to join us," she reiterated, casting Ron a reproving look. The red head just snorted.

_They don't know half of it_, Harry thought to himself edgily, _I don't even want to see the look on Ron's face when I tell him where I'll be spending the summer._

"I've suddenly lost my appetite," Harry stated frankly, getting up to leave. He looked up at Snape who was conversing casually with Professor Slughorn. Harry figured he would just go back to the sitting room and wait for Snape there. He would only be alone for a few minutes; it couldn't hurt. Besides, he needed some alone time. Having to answer to everyone all the time was exhausting him.

"Hopefully we'll see you later, Harry!" Hermione called after him as he quickly slipped away.

"_Hopefully_ being the operative word," Ron grumbled miserably.

* * *

_What was that muttering?_ Harry wondered as he entered the headmaster's office alone. Was he hearing voices again? Did Snape keep snakes in his office? 

"Harry, my boy!" a benign voice called out, as the other voices died down.

_Professor Dumbledore?_

_The portrait!_

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry exclaimed, overjoyed, "I hadn't thought of your portrait until just now!"

"That's all right, Harry. I am just glad we are finally getting to talk," the fanciful old wizard beamed down on the boy-who-lived, "Now how long do we have until Professor Snape returns?"

"Why?" Harry sounded strangely taken aback.

"Because what I am about to tell you, Harry, Professor Snape must never know," Dumbledore said calmly.

"He'll be back any minute now," Harry wagered, suspicion seeping into his voice. _Didn't Dumbledore trust Snape?_

"There are certain objects, Harry, certain objects you must destroy," Dumbledore began urgently, "They are called horcruxes. Do you know what a horcrux is?"

"Yes, sir. Professor Slughorn taught me, sir," Harry replied quickly.

"The horcruxes that you must destroy belong to Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore continued without stopping to praise Harry, "As it stands, you have already destroyed one, in the form of Tom Riddle's diary. Now, I believe there is another located not far from here…"

Harry listened intently as Dumbledore detailed what he claimed to know about the objects he ought to destroy. _Getting rid of objects, that shouldn't be that big of a deal_, Harry thought to himself, relaxing a bit. _But why hadn't Dumbledore told Snape about this?_

"And then there is you, Harry. The final horcrux Lord Voldemort made inheres in you, Harry. He does not know this."

Harry's eyes widened in shock as he immediately recognized the inevitable upshot.

"You must die, Harry. You must let Lord Voldemort kill you. It is the only way to destroy him, son."

Harry raised his eyebrows inquisitively. Why did it seem as if he had heard this all before?

_"And for the greater good you would have this innocent boy crucified?" Snape thundered, "You DISGUST me! You and this cancered world can go to hell for all I care!"_

_"No, Harry! No---Professor Dumbledore—he's under the imperious curse. He is not himself. He doesn't---"_

_"Just let me talk to Harry, Severus…just let me explain!" Dumbledore begged, "I am sure he will understand…"_

_"Confundo!" yelled Snape, effectively befuddling the grey-haired wizard, "You have no right!"_

_"Son," Snape began, choking on the word, "we've all made some terrible mistakes…"_

Suddenly, what must have been repressed memories of that day came rushing back to him.

"Snape…" Harry whispered, "Snape lied to me."

"Yes, son," Dumbledore replied sorrowfully, "I was never under the imperious curse. I am sorry we never got to say goodbye."

Harry was not able to respond as there was a sound of footsteps beyond the door. Dumbledore hurriedly exited his portrait without speaking another word.

Seconds later, Snape entered the room in a billow of black robes, fuming.

"Harry Potter, what in Merlin's name are you doing in this room? Alone?" he raged, his black eyes devouring cowering boy, "Why didn't you wait for me in the Great Hall?"

"I didn't feel well," Harry justified plainly, "I didn't think it would hurt to be alone for a few minutes."

_Were you…alone?_ Snape wondered nervously, his eyes now focusing menacingly on Dumbledore's empty portrait. Harry noticed Snape's eyes shifting upward; it registered immediately with him that he was checking the portrait for the deceased headmaster. Harry wondered if he knew.

"The Dark Lord doesn't need an hour to kill you, stupid boy!" Snape snapped furiously, "I _must _know where you are at **all** times. What were you…?"

Snape stopped yelling, guilt seizing him as he realized the child was beginning to cry. The boy had said he did not feel well. It didn't seem as if Harry had just had a conversation with the old wizard. Perhaps he had overreacted.

"Professor Snape…" Harry murmured tearfully, clumsily taking a seat on the floor.

Severus kneeled down next to him, prepared to carry him into the sitting room if necessary. Harry looked up at him, becoming silent; his green eyes had never seemed so piercing.

"Where does it hurt?" Snape spoke softly.

* * *

1. "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad" : a song by Moby. 

2. I apologize for the brevity of this chapter compared to my more recent ones. My fall semester has just started and I am already bogged down with work. Part II will follow as soon as possible. :)


	17. Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? Part II

**Chapter Seventeen** – _Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad? Part II_

"So this is where you lived?" Snape inquired silkily as they stood before Number Four, Privet Drive.

"It is," Harry replied quietly, his eyes resting on Dudley's broken toys littering the yellowed lawn. When he had woken up that morning, he had had no idea that he would be standing there before his childhood home in Surrey four hours later. Already, his conversation with Dumbledore's portrait considered, it had been a long day. Still, why did news of his pre-planned death pale in comparison to the spectres of violence that still overran that unexceptional dwelling in Little Whinging? Harry shivered in the cold March wind.

"Were these yours'?" Snape asked, indicating the boyhood ruins as they walked slowly up the driveway.

"No, Dudley's," Harry responded shortly, quickening his pace. Now that they were there, he just wanted to get it over with.

Snape grimaced. He should have known that the boy was not given toys; he was quickly realizing that Harry's childhood had been most dystopic.

"Shall I knock?" Snape speculated aloud as they stood side by side on the doorstep.

Harry shook his head, knocking on the door himself instead. He felt a hand rest on his shoulder to steady him as he knees began to buckle.

"I have my wand, Potter," Snape reassured him, "and I'm not afraid to use it."

At that very moment, Vernon Dursley unbolted the door to greet his visitors.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry started, bravely looking up into the man's pudgy face.

"What are you doing here, freak? And who the hell is this?" Vernon pointed towards Severus with a look of disgust.

"This is Hogwarts' new headmaster, Professor Snape," Harry introduced him. Snape nodded stoically.

"Let me guess, you've finally been expelled from that freak school," Vernon spat half-delighted and half-repulsed.

"Actually, Mr. Dursley, I have come here with Harry today to speak to your wife," Snape interjected silkily.

"My wife?!" Vernon bellowed angrily, "What business do you have with my wife? My wife doesn't like _freaks_."

Snape raised his wand. Harry could tell his blood was boiling.

"If you so much as whisper that word again, I will see to it that you sorely regret it," Snape breathed menacingly.

"Why you…!" Vernon barked, his voice breaking from fear.

Harry burst out laughing in the face of his uncle's dread. The tables had turned.

Snape sneered, pleased by the effect he had produced. _Good for you, Potter_, he thought,_ you can laugh all you want to._

With that, Vernon reddened with fury. He lunged at Harry, striking him repeatedly.

"Sectumsempra!" Snape bellowed, inflicting numerous cuts on the obese man's body. Vernon shrieked as he bled.

"Petunia! Petunia, I'm bleeding! These freaks are trying to murder me out here! Help!" Vernon cried from the floor, trying to staunch his wounds.

Snape turned to Harry. The boy had been battered badly; he too was bleeding from the mouth. His green eyes were downcast; he was no longer laughing. It tugged at Severus' heart to see Lily's son hurt.

Snape began to quietly conjure healing spells to rid the child of his wounds.

_ For enemies: Sectumsempra. That was written in his potions textbook. Snape must be the Half-Blood Prince!_ Harry suddenly realized as he looked up at the powerful, mysterious wizard he knew must care about him so much. For everything Snape had done for him, he must have cared more for him than anyone Harry had ever known. He had told off the two most powerful wizards of the century who had both wanted Harry dead, almost dying in one case. He had spied for him, lied for him, tortured and been tortured for him. He risked his life everyday for him. He had watched over Harry for years. And all for what? Unrequited love for his deceased mother? Snape had even told him things that were not true just to keep him from getting hurt. He had told him that Professor Dumbledore loved and was proud of him so that he would not stay sad. Yes, Snape definitely cared; and Harry could not help but to care in turn for the dark wizard who had always been on his side.

With all but one of his scars healed, Harry hugged Snape. He didn't care that it was in front of Uncle Vernon. He needed to show Snape how much it all meant to him.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly.

This touched Snape greatly; it amazed him that after all Harry had been through, after all he himself had put him through, that the boy had found it in his heart to forgive him, let alone thank him.

"You know none of this is your fault," Snape reminded Harry softly as the boy continued to hold on to him.

"You know it isn't your fault, either," Harry responded surprisingly, blowing Snape away, "you never meant for it to happen."

"It is most certainly my fault," Snape snapped brokenly, but gave Harry's shoulder a warm squeeze as he finally pulled away. _Leave it to the boy-who-lived to try to exorcise my guilt, _Snape thought, stupefied, _if I'm not stern with him he'll try to save my soul_.

"What do you want from us?" Petunia shrieked, coming in to view, a horrified look on her face, "My husband! You tried to kill my husband!"

"Your husband tried to kill my student," Snape rejoined, sneering at the sight of Lily's cruel sister, "In response to your question, I have come here to ask you to let me adopt your nephew."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Petunia laughed nastily, "Do you have any idea what a _brat_ he is?"

"I do, in fact," Snape countered coldly, "and I don't care. He needs looking out for. That's what parents do, Mrs. Dursley."

"Take him!" Vernon howled, writhing on the floor, "For the love of God, Petunia, sign! QUICKLY! I need a surgeon…"

Petunia looked down at the papers the black-cloaked wizard held out to her. She signed them tersely.

"Good riddance!" she spat, throwing the papers back to Snape, "Leave our house at once before I call the police! I never want to see you freaks again!"

For all the abuse he had suffered at their hands, Harry could not believe how quickly and unemotionally his aunt and uncle had written him off. He caught his new guardian looking at him with concern as he tried to process his relatives' cutting indifference.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Harry," Snape intoned meaningfully, "you're mine now."

* * *

Note: 

I am so sorry for the delay! I have been very busy with my schoolwork.


	18. The Scientist

**Chapter Eighteen** - _The Scientist_

"Can we go to Hogsmeade this afternoon and meet up with Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked Snape hesitantly. The headmaster seemed intent on a quiet weekend afternoon of potion-making.

Snape snorted, "Absolutely not. I don't know about you Potter, but I'd like to survive until summertime."

"Right," Harry replied, wondering why he had even bothered to ask. He looked across the room to where Snape was carefully titrating a foggy potion. His intense black eyes got caught in Harry's momentarily but quickly refocused themselves on the task at hand.

"Listen, what am I supposed to call you now?" Harry wondered awkwardly.

"What do you mean?" Snape replied, genuinely confused at first. He was absorbed in his work.

"Da-" Harry ventured.

"Absolutely not," Snape snapped, "How many times do I have to remind you that you are not the fruit of my loins? You may call me Professor Snape, as you have always done, Potter. No affectionate embellishments are necessary."

Severus frowned. The boy almost seemed _eager_, God forbid, to embrace him as his father. He wasn't quite ready for that yet. It had only been two hours.

Harry groaned suddenly, throwing his head back against the dungeon wall.

Snape rolled his eyes at such unwarranted teenage theatrics.

"Listen, Potter, I know you're probably getting cabin fever, but—"

"Severus Snape," the boy almost hissed, "You have betrayed me."

"WHAT?! Betray? _You_?" Snape hollered, approaching the child where he sat, "Do you have any idea...?!"

Harry looked up at his new parent, his green eyes filled with pure odium. The boy's scar was pulsating, almost blazing.

"OH! Oh my God! Harry! Close your mind, boy! Drive him out, for all our sakes!" Snape suddenly understood that it wasn't Harry speaking.

"Son of a mudblood!" Harry shrieked uncharacteristically, lunging at his headmaster.

Instead of evading him, Snape caught him in his strong arms.

"Foolish boy! Foolish boy… Close your mind, Potter! Foolish…too much time…playing Quidditch, breaking rules…." Snape wrestled the writhing, screeching child as the possessed brat tried to choke him, "Harry Potter…I swear…"

"Damn you!" Harry roared wildly.

"Damn you!" Snape snorted, almost amused at this attempt on his life, "You're too short to reach my neck."

Harry's violent movements slowed, and a moment later he was only clutching onto Snape's robes tightly.

"What just happened?" Harry asked, perplexed, as he broke away from Snape's hold.

"The Dark Lord decided to pay us a little visit… compliments of you," Snape said softly, "Do you have any idea…how this might have happened?"

"Oh no…" Harry realized, his heart sinking, "I'm really sorry, professor. I just never got the hang of that Occlumency…thing."

"Well, I am telling you, Potter, that that Occlumency _thing--_as you call it-- might have saved my life tonight if you weren't such an equally pathetic assassin," Snape eyed Harry reprovingly.

"I tried to kill you?" Harry asked quietly, suddenly scared of himself.

"No, Potter, the Dark Lord tried to kill me," Snape retorted softly, "there is a difference…however subtle." He sneered.

"It might as well have been me," Harry shook his head, "I haven't been working hard enough. Really, it's my fault."

Snape hesitated. Whenever the boy said that so self-loathingly he felt compelled to reassure him.

"Well, you did manage to drive him out eventually," Snape reminded him calmly, "Good job, actually."

Harry looked at him, doubtful. It wasn't like Snape to give out compliments, especially when they weren't deserved.

Severus quickly patted Harry on the shoulder against his better judgment.

"I'll try harder next time, I promise," Harry said, making eye contact with his guardian.

Snape smirked at Harry's bigheartedness, "See that you do. Now, Potter, would you like to assist me in brewing some more Dreamless Sleeping Draught? I'll teach you how. It is something that you ought to know how to do."

Harry could not help but to laugh at Snape's innocent enthusiasm when it came to potions.

"I would like nothing more," he responded sarcastically.

"_Cheek_," Snape's voice raised dangerously, "Next time, say it like you mean it, Potter."


End file.
